


i am your circumstance (i shine the sun)

by sandpapersnowman



Series: weekly mag fics i guess! [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angry Kissing, Arguing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spoilers, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandpapersnowman/pseuds/sandpapersnowman
Summary: (spoilers for episodes 140 to 142!)He doesn't knock when he barges into Jon's office."Martin," Jon startles, but looks happy to see him. Prick. "I've been meaning to talk to you, I —""— Why didn't you tell me where you were going?"





	i am your circumstance (i shine the sun)

**Author's Note:**

> title from the faint's [Source of the Sun](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/faint/sourceofthesun.html) bc im gay
> 
> big shoutout to my buddy Lorn for looking over this for me!! <33 i dont know what other tags this would need tbh

Jon comes back looking like he hasn't slept in months, haggard and disheveled and wearing probably the same clothes he left in, and looking supremely _pleased_ with himself.

The anger that spikes in Martin is new. Jon can't go gallivanting off into danger like that without even _telling_ him. It's not like they're close anymore, if they ever were or if Martin was just projecting, but they're still... They're _coworkers_. He's not entirely sure what position Peter has put him in at the Archives, but Jon is either his boss or his peer, and Jon’s actions still directly affect him.

He doesn't knock when he barges into Jon's office.

"Martin," Jon startles, but looks happy to see him. Prick. "I've been meaning to talk to you, I —"

"— Why didn't you tell me where you were going?" Martin snaps. He forces down the giddy feeling of seeing Jon smile, the roll of calm and fondness over him hearing his voice. "I found out from _Daisy_ that you and Basira were on some suicide mission."

Jon's back straightens up, his posture going tense and defensive.

"I didn't —"

"— What, didn't want me to worry? Didn't want me to get in the way trying to help? " Martin scoffs. A small voice tells him Jon doesn't deserve this, he doesn't need to be so mean, but a louder voice is just mad at him for doing this _again_. "Didn't want to _talk_ to me?"

"I didn't think about it," Jon admits softly, shrinking back in his chair. Good; he's never taken Martin seriously, and it's about time he shut up and listen for once in his life. "I was just thinking about stopping whatever was going on. And we did," Jon adds. "Things are okay for the moment."

"Congrats."

Martin sighs. He _is_ pissed off, he really is, but at least Jon is back and Martin doesn't have to worry while he's within sight. Breathe. Calm down a bit, and tell him you're sorry for getting angry.

"I'm sorry," Jon offers instead, first. "I should have told you what was going on, but you've been hard to track down."

" _I've_ been hard to track down?" Martin laughs. Unbelievable; Jon will disappear with no warning and no backup, but it's somehow _Martin's_ fault that he's been _busy_. "Jon, I have an office. Come by! Say hello! Say 'hello' and 'I'm leaving to do more weird, scary bullshit, I'll send a postcard'. Hell, you don't even have to go that far, you have my email. You have my phone number. At any time in all of this you could have texted or called or _anything_ , and you _didn't_."

Jon winces at all of it, because Martin is right. Jon has every way to reach out to him, and hasn't.

"You could have —"

"— Jon, if you say that _I_ could have tried texting _you_ , I _will_ actually kill you," Martin interrupts, laughing almost hysterically in disbelief of how much Jon wants this to be anyone's fault but his own. "Do you check your phone? Ever? Is it even _charged_ right now?"

Jon opens his mouth to argue that it is, but they both feel the air electrify as Jon realizes it's not. 

"Fine," Jon acquiesces. "Alright, yes, I've been... Out of touch," he admits.

He looks up at Martin for his agreement, maybe his parole from being scolded in this argument, but Martin only raises his eyebrows as if to say _go on_.

"Out of touch, and... Unapproachable. Inaccessible."

He keeps his eyes on Martin like he's begging to be excused from this, but Martin only gives him another bitter laugh.

"You're an archivist, not a thesaurus," he scoffs. "You don't have to apologize if you don't mean it. I'd prefer that, honestly, to you trying to lie through your teeth about how bad you feel taking off like that when it's still written all over you that you don't regret it."

Jon steels himself again, finally showing a bit of anger on his own face.

"Okay," he agrees spitefully. "No, I'm not sorry. It's not as though we've been chatty with each other lately, and I didn't want you to try to talk me out of it because I knew you would."

"Yeah, I would have," Martin seconds, but allows Jon to continue.

"The last time I tried to talk with you, you pushed me away, and you've continued to be distanced and absent." Jon crosses his arms over his chest as a small amount of hurt creeps into his voice, and it's almost enough to make Martin feel bad for bringing it up. Almost. "I thought about telling you, but decided not to because it would have just become an argument or led to you making more excuses to avoid me."

"Oh, so _your_ feelings are hurt?" Martin spits, surprising even himself with how cruelly the words twist off his tongue. "I've been busy doing an evil creep's bidding so I can save my friends, while most of them are still actively risking their lives doing stupid shit and talking about me behind my back, and _your_ feelings are hurt?"

He steps closer. He's been hovering by the door in case Jon says something he can't handle, but now that they've reached the point of Jon spewing some blameless, offended catalyst, he doesn't want to leave. Jon deserves this.

"I worry about you _constantly_ ," he goes on, and he'd worry about being louder but it's not like anyone in the Archives hasn't heard them fighting, or cares, at this point. "I just took a statement from some poor girl you harassed, who's been seeing you in her dreams as some awful, fucked up eye monster, and while I'm fretting over what humanity you have left, Daisy comes in to let me know you're trying to kill yourself in Ny Alesund and take Basira down with you."

"Basira —"

 _Agreed to go_ , Martin already knows, but that's not his point. Daisy can chew out Basira on her own time, and he's sure she will, but right now Jon needs to hear him.

"You are an _asshole_ , Jon." He's yelling now. "Not because of whatever the Eye has done, or whatever monstrous thing lives in your head now, but because you act like it would _actually_ kill you to take any responsibility for yourself."

Jon stands from his desk, coming around it with eyebrows furled into something annoyed like Martin is only being a _pest_ and not desperately trying to get through to Jon with the only approach he has left, and Martin steps closer to meet him.

"You don't listen to me or anyone else, even if we can help you, and any time someone tries to tell you you've done something mean or rude or _wrong_ , you find every possible loophole for how it's really _their_ fault, not yours."

Jon is _flushed_ with anger now, but any intimidation in his attempt at approaching Martin is stopped when he grabs Jon by his jacket first, pushes him back so he's trapped between Martin and the edge of his own desk.

"'You could have texted me'," Martin mocks in a purposely childish, fake whine. Heat tingles under his eyes but he prays no tears fall. "' _You_ could have called _me_ '. Meanwhile, your phone is buried up your ass with no charge, if you even get service in whichever fun little layer of Hell you're taking a tour in, and I'm still here at the Archives in case I stumble upon a Leitner that gives people more than _one fucking brain cell_."

His voice is too loud to be so close, and it must hurt Jon's ears, but Martin doesn't care. He _truly_ doesn't, because if a bit of a headache from a shouting match is going to ground Jon long enough not to jump off another cliff, Martin will get a damn megaphone.

His vision blurs as tears _do_ form, watering up with anger and frustration, and Jon definitely notices but can't get out anything with Martin still reaming him.

"I don't know if you think you're invincible, or just don't care about sacrificing yourself to save the world for another five minutes, or _what_ is going through your head, but you — you _can't_ ," Martin's voice cracks, and it starts to wobble, the lost momentum of a spinning top shaking as it slows. The first tear spills when he ducks his head down to stop looking at Jon, and when it lands on Jon's jacket Martin briefly hopes it soaks in and stains like blood. "You can't risk your life like that, you can't _die_ , because I'm — I'm not going to let you."

His rant stutters so he can sniffle, choke back a sob as his anger fades back into stressed worry and fear, and Jon softly asks _Martin?_ somewhere in the distance.

"I need you to be safe, Jon," Martin finally says, so quiet in the shadow of his screaming that he wonders if Jon can hear it at all. "I need you to be safe, because I can't — I can't look at your corpse again, Jon. I _won't_."

He lets one hand go from Jon's jacket to smear some of the tears off his face, and spares an embarrassed glance up at Jon again as he does.

He still doesn't look sorry, or regretful, or like he's rethought his actions at all. He just looks concerned for _Martin_ , like he wants him to feel better. Probably only so he'll stop crying, Martin thinks bitterly, and that same resentful _fury_ bubbles back up along with the sudden clarity that Jon will never, ever listen to words.

So he takes action.

The hand still fisted in Jon's jacket yanks him forward and his free hand slides into the shaggy hair on the back of Jon's head. Jon's lips are warm, and chapped, and so unbearably, dreamily good against Martin's mouth. He's never imagined kissing Jon like this, both of them shouting at each other and barely containing themselves, but it certainly works to shut him up.

The seething tension in Jon's body relaxes, and Martin can almost imagine Jon understands why Martin is so upset. Just in case, Martin pulls back and then presses forward again, kissing him with more softness and care and moving his body close enough to line up against Jon's.

Martin doesn't realize he's shut his eyes until he pulls away again and has to open them, and Jon hasn't closed his at all. He's watching Martin with something like shame, even as he licks his lips and takes a shuddery breath.

"I didn't know," Jon says, barely above a whisper. "That you, um... Felt like that," he fumbles.

Martin frowns.

"Elias said you listen to all of the tapes. Before we put him away, I mean, he — he made fun of me for it. About my feelings for you."

Jon's blush deepens, this time in his own embarrassment rather than anger.

"I do. I did, I mean, hear that one," Jon clarifies. "I thought he just meant you being my friend," he laughs nervously. "I hadn't thought he meant... That."

Martin swallows nervously.

"Well, he did," Martin confirms, trying to muster some of his earlier confidence into a tone that _doesn't_ sound like he's still teary-eyed. "But that doesn't change anything."

He realizes they're still pressed together, still close enough to kiss, and he takes a step back in case it's making Jon uncomfortable. He hadn't exactly frozen when Martin kissed him, but he hadn't really kissed back, and now the ground feels like thin, thin ice.

"I don't expect you to feel the same, obviously, but I don't want you to think my concern is just infatuation," Martin explains. "I'm concerned as your friend, and your coworker, and I mean it when I say you — you shouldn't _run off_ into trash fires like you do."

Jon, finally, nods. He doesn't say anything for a minute, staring at the floor beside Martin's feet and leaning back against his desk where Martin had put him.

"I don't want to make any promises," Jon finally says. It's not ideal, but he's not lying anymore. "I _can't_ promise I won't do more stupid things, but I can... I can promise to tell you," he shrugs. "Come to your office and tell you in person if I'm going somewhere, or keep my phone charged and text you?"

Martin gives a small nod back.

"I'd really appreciate that. I want to know you're okay, or at least where you are if something goes wrong and someone needs to come find you."

Jon nods again.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, but almost means it this time. "For making you worry. I know we're all under a lot of stress, but that shouldn't have kept me from attempting to talk to you."

Martin allows himself the smallest smile.

"Yeah." He doesn't say Jon is forgiven, because he isn't, not yet, but this is good. This is better. "I'm sorry for blowing up at you," Martin apologizes back. "I'm not sorry for being upset, but I didn't need to... Get physical."

He means grabbing at Jon, because he briefly forgets about kissing him in the heat of the moment. He remembers again _now_ , though, when Jon looks away again with a shy face and presses his lips together.

"And for — Christ, sorry for... Kissing you," Martin adds, looking away too with an awkward laugh. "I... I don't know why I did that," he admits. It was the same barely-there tug that made him pile tapes onto the coffin, but it got through to Jon anyway. Maybe it's just an instinct he's developed — the sixth sense: _save Jon from himself_.

"It's fine," Jon shrugs. "It was... It wasn't bad."

Martin laughs, _giggles_ , almost, even though he kicks himself for slipping back into finding Jon charming so easily.

"Probably preferable to being yelled at, I guess."

Jon laughs too, and shrugs again.

"It was... _Preferable_. In general."

His voice has gone even softer, and Martin realizes he... No, he couldn't be. Jon's never shown interest in _anyone_ , and Martin of all people wouldn't be the exception.

"You would _prefer_ I kiss you than... What?" Martin asks, feeling braver than ever despite the confrontation he'd just given Jon. "I didn't _really_ mean it when I said I'd kill you," he jokes.

"I'd... You said Elias did mean that you had feelings for me in a — a romantic sense, I guess, but is that... Did you _have_ feelings for me, or do you...?" Jon makes a flingy, noncommittal motion with his hand, like he's only _curious_ , not actually invested in Martin's answer. "Does that still apply? Presently?"

Martin hesitates. Yes, God, it'll probably always be true, because Jon has left a gaping wound on his heart he could probably never heal from, but Jon is different now. He had feelings for Jon before his 'coma', before his death, and now he's not quite sure whether it's still Jon at all.

But... If Martin doesn't think about where Jon's just been, and the current state of his own life, wouldn't Jon have acted the same? Shyly asking where Martin stands on his feelings for him, ready to laugh it off and pretend it doesn't bother him if they're gone. Jon's been making questionable decisions, like approaching someone and asking for a statement without thinking about the outcome, but even before either of them knew what was truly happening, he tried to say the scar Michael left was from a bread knife. When facing down a table that had been described multiple times as being a maze, as seeming as though it kept something trapped, his first instinct was to smash it open and unleash the monster tangled in it.

Jon's always been a bad liar, and kind of impulsive, and more interested in results than methods. 

He's still Jon.

"It is," Martin decides. "A lot of things have changed, but I care about you as more than a friend."

Jon stands away from his desk at that, shrinking the distance between them again.

"Okay," he says, forcing resolve into his voice. "I've also considered you in that respect, recently," Jon admits. "Would you — if you wanted to pursue that, I would also be interested in pursuing it."

Jon's words are chosen carefully, Martin noticing the way he avoids asking it as a question so he won't be compelled and taking comfort in that small effort.

"If you didn't, that's also understandable," Jon continues. "Becoming involved in the middle of all of this would probably be a bad idea, with unintended, terrible consequences, but I'm sure you're aware I'm not opposed to those."

Jon tries to smile up at him casually, but he just looks _sweet_.

"It's definitely a bad idea," Martin agrees, but before the smile can fade from Jon's face, he continues, "but I also want to pursue it. We can _try_ , at least. See if it can work, right?"

Jon's smile splits wider, and Martin can practically hear the thousand things he wants to say; _really?_ and _do you mean it?_ and _are you sure?_ written hopefully on his face. Instead, Jon leans toward him again and presses his own chaste kiss to Martin's mouth. It's more on the corner of his mouth than centered, and a little awkward with Jon keeping his hands balled into shaky, eager fists at his sides, but Martin turns his face to it to kiss him properly.

It's only a moment, and only a peck, but Martin's heart _pounds_.

"You still have to tell me before you go do dumb things," Martin reminds him, Jon's mouth barely separated from his when he says it.

Jon laughs, lighthearted and pleased. 

Martin thinks Jon looks more human than he has in a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> supplemental: i'm also [sandpapersnowman](https://www.sandpapersnowman.tumblr.com) on tumblr and lyric/ille in the rq discord! hmu!
> 
> [real pic of jonathan sims](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/307340306179948545/594596222849777694/1561832906140_adobe.jpg)


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